As promised nearly a year ago, here's some smut set in the For Honor universe. Might continue this story, or just do a bunch of oneshots. Oh, and feel free to add your own stuff if you get bored of waiting on me.
The sun was scarce that day, a mere suggestion behind a blanket of gently weeping clouds. The sparse light it provided was pale and uniform, sufficient to see by, but little more. This dreary light picked out a figure clad in monastic robes and metallic armor, armed with a single large shield paired with a wicked looking blade of mirror-polished steel.
The man rested easily on the ramparts of a mostly intact and utterly oversized fortress city. It was the size of a small mountain, and a hallowed symbol of the once insurmountable might of Ashfeld’s legions. Towers lanced into the clouds, keeps rose like cliff faces, and walls loomed proud and unbroken by time or siege.
The figure in robes and steel smiled, as if he couldn’t help being awestruck by the grandeur of it all, though he was clearly being careful not to let the emotion go beyond a grin. With hooded eyes and upturned lips, he surveyed the garrison which manned the sweeping battlements.
Pallid sunlight revealed crossbowmen in their hundreds, lining walls and towers until the entire castle seemed to bristle with them. A score of officers drilled rank upon rank of men-at-arms in the vast courtyard below, taking the lads through formations and tactics. There was an air of urgency to their movements. The battle was coming, and sooner than they’d have liked.
The rough sound of a throat being cleared shook the man from his reverie.
He turned to see the hollowed features of one Brother Maldin. Renowned among the order as not only a gravely efficient killer, but also a gifted mentor. Grim and sullen under his cowl, the older man hefted his kite shield and pointed with his sword over the wall, toward the vast shattered landscape that once bore the name Ashfeld, where the Viking horde waited in their jeering millions.
“It’s good that you are vigilant, Arvo, but be vigilant in that direction. The Vikings grow bold – they’ll storm the walls before the month is out,” Brother Maldin’s voice had been rendered raspy by decades of shouting, but its baritone timbre still commanded respect.
Arvo snorted and turned to face the encamped horde, speaking through a toothy smirk, “To a man they’ll be slaughtered, Brother Maldin. Our ballistae will shred them, our archers will skewer them, and should a single barbarian survive to scale these battlements, I’ll cleave the bastard in two myself.”
“That is your duty,” the older man conceded, “but it’s also your duty to keep an eye on them in the meantime. I know your vision is sharp, so see to it,” with that Brother Maldin stalked off, no doubt seeking another Brother of the Black Priors to reprimand.
Arvo leaned on his kite shield and was about to start counting the enemy’s numbers again, when a shout echoed from across the battlements.
“Intruder on the wall! To arms! To arms!”
Arvo cursed and snatched up his shield, hastily securing the strap as he ran toward the commotion. The shouts were loudest near one of the ballista platforms a hundred paces away, which Arvo covered in seconds.
A circle had formed around whatever had caused the sudden alarm, but what was inside couldn’t be made out. He snarled as he shouldered his way through, cursing at the impotent whelps who barred his way. Once through, Arvo’s expression softened to a mere frown.
A pair of Peacekeepers knelt in the center, each one restrained by two soldiers twice their size. One of these men looked up as Arvo pushed into the center.
“Caught ‘em trying to sabotage the artillery, m’lord! Killed the ballista team they did, cut their throats from behind like they was animals.”
Arvo’s frown deepened to a scowl as he regarded the two women. The first was a brunette, gently curled locks of auburn hair peeked out from her cowl and partially obscured a youthful, remarkably attractive face. Her body was slender, and she struggled petulantly against the soldiers’ grip. It was clear that this one had never seen a real battle, which was common for members of her order. Content to skulk in the shadows, they rarely confronted a foe without first securing an overwhelming advantage.
The second woman was different. While slight of frame, her posture was rigid, muscles taught to spring at any moment. Her hood had fallen back to reveal a messy bob of black hair, which fell just shy of her shoulders, though a finely crafted iron mask still covered her face.
Arvo moved closer and gingerly lifted the mask of the second Peacekeeper. A fierce, catlike face greeted him. Her eyes were large and green below a brow knotted by contempt.
“Go on,” she spat, “Send me to the gallows. You’ll all join me in the grave soon enough.”
“No,” Arvo said, stepping back, “I’ve a better plan. You will face my wrath where you stand. I’ll kill you both, rape your corpses, and have them flayed. Then, your rotting carcasses will be sent to the enemy by way of catapult, where your putrid meat will spread disease amid their ranks.”
The Peacekeepers exchanged glances, then the brunette spoke.
“What if we kill you instead?”
Arvo laughed and flourished his blade, “Make no mistake, wench. This is not a trial; this is an execution.”
“But first,” Arvo added, “I would know your names.”
“The Raven,” said the black-haired woman.
“Ayla,” mumbled the brunette, which earned a harsh glance from her companion. She returned the glare and continued with more conviction. “It’s what my mother named me. If I’m to die I’ll die as myself, not what the Order tried to make of me.”
A murmur rose from the onlookers, but Arvo ordered the soldiers to let go of the traitors, and so the brawl began.
Ayla picked up her weapons and leapt at Arvo, thrusting high in an attempt to get over his defense. Arvo stepped into the lunge, going low and using the woman’s momentum to scoop her up with his shield. She grunted as he flipped her bodily over his head and delivered a spinning slash to her torso.
The Raven moved in while her companion staggered to her feet, and managed to slip her dagger past Arvo’s defense while he wasn’t looking. The weapon penetrated his robes easily, but stopped against the mail underneath, succeeding in causing some pain, but little else.
Arvo spun with a snarl, lashing out with a savage swing. The Raven ducked it easily, and thrust her arming sword straight into Arvo’s face. The sword bit into the flesh of his forehead, but the point was misaligned and skimmed off the bone underneath, leaving a long, bleeding gash in its wake.
Blood streamed down from the wound and into Arvo’s left eye, but he didn’t notice. With a shout he stepped forward, fencing aside a second attempt on his head and bashing The Raven back with his shield. The woman moved with the blow, rolling back and taking a defensive stance.
Arvo noticed The Raven’s eyes flick to something behind him, and he spun just in time to ward off a second attack from Ayla. She hadn’t been wounded by that initial slash, indeed it looked as if Arvo’s blade barely penetrated the woman’s layered textile armor.
Ayla struck again, managing to sneak a cut onto Arvo’s swordarm. He staggered to the side while delivering his riposte, which went wide, but the movement positioned him to face both attackers at once. Hunkering behind his shield, Arvo glared warily at the two women with his unbloodied eye.
The Raven straightened and sauntered closer, eyes alight, rosy lips quirking into a smile.
“Kill us both, will you? Rape our corpses? Have us flayed? You can barely defend yourself.”
Arvo stammered, faltering as he backed away further. Ayla snorted followed suit, stepping closer.
“Wait, we can talk about this,” Arvo pleaded.
“Pathetic,” spat The Raven, taking another step forward. Into range.
It was then that Arvo struck.
“I’ll silence your heart!” He barked, bringing his sword to bear with lethal intent.
The razor-sharp blade hissed in a deadly arc, and The Raven ducked just a moment too late. Her head was nearly cut in two as a diagonal section of her skull went spinning to the flagstones, taking half an eye and a good chunk of gooey pinkish-gray brain with it.
The Raven wobbled but stayed standing. Her remaining eye went wide as her mouth dropped open, spilling a slimy pink tongue that drooled onto her breasts. Her hands spasmed and fluttered, dropping their weapons to the floor with a clatter. The woman burbled something that was probably supposed to be words, and staggered dumbly a few paces to the right.
While Ayla stared in shock, Arvo wiped the blood from his eye and stepped up to the stumbling, half-dead Peacekeeper. Gently, the man placed his index finger between The Raven’s full breasts and pushed, tipping her over.
The Raven’s head hit the ground hard, black hair flopping back as some of her remaining brain matter splattered out onto the floor. She started twitching violently on impact, hips bucking and feet scrabbling in mindless desperation.
Without warning Arvo struck again, closing the distance between him and the remaining Peacekeeper with alarming speed. His weapon came around before Ayla could react and it met her neck, gliding through her supple flesh and decapitating the young woman with ease.
Her head landed some distance away, the mess of silky brown hair didn’t quite obscure her pretty face, whose mouth was working like a fish out of water, eyes tearing up and growing dull as consciousness faded and the traitor’s brain died.
Ayla’s body hesitated for a moment, then her shoulders shot up and her back arched as hot blood jetted and spit from the stump of her neck, splattering against the cool stonework and speckling nearby soldiers. The headless woman’s arms jerkily rose to about chest height, hands flopping uselessly as her body convulsed in dead confusion.
Arvo slipped a dagger from his belt and grabbed one of the twitching arms, pulling the body closer. It stumbled slightly and almost pitched over, but Arvo caught it and held firmly to it’s frantically gyrating hips. With deft hands the man slit Ayla’s blood-drenched top open, exposing a pair of medium-sized breasts to the cool air.
Stepping back, Arvo let the corpse hit the ground. It continued to thrash around, though not as violently as before, it was more than enough to make her tits jiggle enticingly. The nipples even began perking up in the relative cold.
“I said I would rape the corpses,” Arvo proclaimed to the onlooking soldiery, “But alas, I don’t think I can spare the blood,” he tapped at the gash on his forehead.
“Then I’ll do it,” growled a rough-looking crossbowman, stepping forward. “They killed my friend.”
“Mine too,” a younger lad moved into the circle, wide-eyed but clearly eager.
“Likewise,” another soldier moved to join the other two, a cold fury in his eyes.
Eight men in total came forward, undoing sword belts and stripping down trousers with haste. Arvo nodded and moved back into the crowd, where he sat down and got to work sharpening his flaying knife, watching the show as he did.
The group of soldiers descended on The Raven first, as she was still living, if only barely. The half-headed woman mewled girlishly as rough hands stripped her and propped her up for a savage fucking. The top half of her tunic came off with a rip, sending two massive mounds of pale flesh bouncing free. Arvo nearly gaped. How had she managed to stuff those things away?
There wasn’t much time to consider the question, however, since the first man was already lining his penis up with the cross section of The Raven’s brain. When he took the plunge, the busty woman reared up, the spasms rippling through her body so intense that the remaining men struggled to hold her down.
Life was leaving The Raven quickly though, and her violent movements soon died down to pathetic little jerks and twitches, along with the occasional weakly croaked “Ah.” Half-limp and docile in her near-death state, she offered no resistance as another soldier yanked away her stout wool hosen and plunged himself into her swollen womanhood, which squirted out a stream of piss in response.
Together the two soldiers penetrated The Raven from either end. Her body lurched back and forth with the rhythm. Giant tits wobbling, meaty thighs rippling, jet-black hair flopping, slick pink tongue twitching. She was clearly dead by this point, but judging by the way the men were raping her corpse, she was still plenty warm. In fact, another two soldiers joined in, one taking the corpse’s hand and forcing her to jerk him off, the other rubbing his swollen dick through her hair.
While that group continued having their way with The Raven’s voluptuous carcass, the remaining four had just about removed all of Ayla’s clothing, revealing a slightly skinny but well-toned body, which they immediately set about violating.
One man took up position below her, jamming his prick into the woman’s slowly winking rectum, another penetrated her from the front (taking her virginity, judging by the blood), and a third stuffed his nearly foot-long member down Ayla’s truncated esophagus, which made a wet gurgling noise as he ravaged the bloody hole with abandon. The last man in that group picked up Ayla’s head. Sliding his penis into her slackened mouth, he proceeded to pump the gruesome object back and forth.
This went on for nearly ten minutes, until one by one the soldiers blew their loads. The first pulled out of The Raven’s snatch and jetted six full ropes of seed across her heavy, jiggling tits. The second continued to mash his rod through her mussed up black hair, leaving bubbling white gobs and sagging strings as it went. The third finished himself off on her face, glazing her dead catlike features with a sticky torrent of spunk. The fourth buried his cock deep inside The Raven’s brain and let loose with God knows how much jizz, which caused her enormous breasts to start splurting out milk, as if they themselves were cumming.
Arvo raised an eyebrow at that, but otherwise kept on silently sharpening his knife.
The fifth and sixth men both finished at the same time, creaming Ayla’s pert butt and soaking wet pussy until copious amounts of sperm drooled from both holes. Moments later, the seventh soldier drained his balls directly into Ayla’s stomach while the eighth and final man decided to get creative and plugged his glans into the brunette’s nose before ejaculating.
The rapists gradually dispersed, as did the rest of the crowd, until eventually only two remained. Arvo finished sharpening his knife and looked up.
“Care to explain?” Brother Maldin said. There was no anger in his voice, though his arms were folded and he wore a scowl.
“Traitors,” Arvo said simply, “They killed the ballista team and were caught attempting to destroy the emplacement.”
Brother Maldin nodded sagely, “Then they deserved everything you gave them. Though I appreciate that you didn’t stoop so low as to rape their bodies yourself, Arvo. If the Wardens, or God forbid the Lawbringers caught wind of that, I would never hear the end of it.”
“Indeed. I was rather hoping to flay them, by the by,” Arvo commented, idly checking the edge of his knife, “Perhaps launch them and their worthless hides into the enemy’s camp by catapult, perhaps spread disease if luck favors us.”
“Two wouldn’t be nearly enough. Your time would be better spend watching the enemy’s movements,” Brother Maldin said dismissively.
“If these two Peacekeepers were turncoats,” Arvo gestured to the two dead women, lying lifeless in puddles of blood, semen, and their own urine, “who is to say there aren’t more among their order? Surely we cannot risk further sabotage, and the corpse of every Peacekeeper in this fortress would be more than sufficient to cause an outbreak, I should think.”
Brother Maldin appeared to consider this, and after a moment said, “Very well. There’s only a couple dozen Peacekeepers stationed here, and their order is very tight-knit. No chance that these two were the only traitors. Gather 20 of your best men and see it done within the week.”
Arvo grinned a wolf’s grin and nodded once, “Consider it done, Brother.”